


they were supposed to be chocolate chip.

by canniballistics



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-14
Updated: 2014-06-14
Packaged: 2018-02-04 16:42:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1786105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/canniballistics/pseuds/canniballistics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony Stark makes cookies. It doesn't go well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	they were supposed to be chocolate chip.

**Author's Note:**

> written for [springbucky](http://springbucky.tumblr.com) over on tumblr in response to a meme!

The door opens while he's at work, and when his music stops, Tony frowns. "Uh, JARVIS? No? I need my soundtrack. Play music."

"Hang on, JARVIS. Tony? Where are you?"

He quirks his head at the sound of Pepper's voice, rolling out from under the car and scratching idly at his cheek with the wrench in his hand. "Present. And accounted for, I guess. You rang?"

She holds up the tray in her hands, lips pressed together and a worried frown on her face. "What are these? And why were they sitting on the table with my name on them?" 

"They're cookies. Duh. What'd you think they were?" Tony shakes his head, shrugging like it's the most natural conclusion in the world. Nonchalant as he says it, refusing to acknowledge the tiny shred of doubt that immediately starts creeping up the back of his spine. Why is she asking about the cookies? Is there something wrong with them? What is this?

"And- you made them?" 

There's a hint of a grin playing around her features, and Tony just narrows his eyes as the doubt grows.

"Uh, yeah. Why?"

Pepper pauses, as if she's waiting for the "real" explanation, and then a smile breaks out on her face. "Cookies. Right." She picks one up off the tray, holding it up for him to see. "It's, it's _very_ impressive, Tony, how you managed to burn half of them and leave the other half uncooked." 

Tony just shifts, chin up in defiance as he crosses his arms over his chest. Refuses to let his pride take a hit as Pepper dissects his hard work. She sets the cookie down, and laughs just a little as she gestures to the biggest one on the plate. It's easily about a foot in diameter, crispy black around the edges and _definitely_ still mushy in the middle, starting about an inch from the edge and only getting worse the closer it got to the center. "I don't even know if I want to ask what happened to this one."

...on second thought, screw his pride. He's not above letting his feelings get hurt over something he put so much effort into. Tony throws his hands into the air, frowning. "Yeah, rolling them out into individual little balls was too much work, okay? I already spent like, six hours in the kitchen this morning for it." He wishes he were exaggerating; he'd _actually_ woken up before noon to do it. "And- and there was a lot of dough, and you know me, I'm all about big, and flashy, and excess, so—"

"Tony," Pepper interrupts gently, smiling as she sets the tray down on his work table. "It was a sweet gesture. Thank you for the cookies. But I thought we decided to leave the cooking - and baking - to people who can actually do it."

"I can cook," he argues petulantly. "Cooking's just a different kind of science. I'm good at science."

A brief nod. "True. But your skills lie more in...engineering, this kind of thing," and Pepper gestures to the car he'd just been working on, to the wall of Iron Man suits behind them. "Let's leave the cooking to the pros, okay?"

He's glad no one else is around to ask why a grown man is pouting, but he concedes after a few seconds. "Fine. No more cooking from now on. Scout's honor. It was exhausting anyway. I ordered a whole new kitchen set - should get here tomorrow. That was way too much junk to clean up by myself. You can- get rid of those, if you want."

Pepper looks down at the tray, pursing her lips before smiling. "I guess that's all we _can_ do; I don't really see how we can eat them in this state." She holds up a hand before Tony can launch into a complaint. "I've got one more question."

Tony narrows his eyes, the pout returning for just a second. "Yeah? What is it?"

"What's the occasion? You've never cooked for me before, not unless something was wrong."

He recalls, briefly, an embarrassing plate of eggs on a plane, the now-pointless knowledge that he'd been dying weighing on his mind. Tony shrugs, turns his back to Pepper to fiddle with his tools. "Not- Nothing important, not really." A pause. "Happy birthday, Ms. Potts."

There's a quiet pause, and then Pepper laughs, pulls him close to kiss his cheek. "Thank you, Mr. Stark. For the cookies, and for actually remembering this time."


End file.
